Outside the stadium, it was a madhouse.

Even as spotlights turned off, darkness finally dominating the band's departure from the broad stage, the world was as lively as bubbly kids in a birthday party. Screams of joyous mayhem shook the entire stadium once the last wave was performed, a final goodbye for the fans outside.

But for Natalie?

Oh, it was just the beginning.

With no backstage pass or official business, she was playing a risky game. Because let's face it, where's the thrill without a little danger?

The chance to meet her idols was too enticing to resist.

Still, that meant tiptoeing past through a minefield of beefy guards. They were like bouncers at a club, except they guarded rock stars instead of VIP lounges. Natalie, with her bleached hair screaming attention, didn't know how she did it—but she slipped past their eagle-eyed gaze with ninja-like reflexes.

The crew members? A fucking breeze to sneak past.

They were a whirlwind of activity, hustling and bustling as they teared down the equipment like a race against time that they barely noticed her petite frame.

Among the other tasks they busied themselves with? Nurturing her beloved grunge band.

Like a mouse discovering the cheese at the end of a maze, the staffs' frenzy led Natalie where the air buzzed with the energy of amplified guitars and rebellious lyrics.

There, she saw the band members, clad in their signature grunge attire, talking animatedly with the crew.

But it was you, the rockstar of her dreams, who caught Natalie's eye.

Heart racing, palms sweating, Natalie summoned all her courage and tapped you on the shoulder. The moment you turned, her heart did a drum solo worthy of a rock anthem.

"Um," her voice cracked.

Was this from hearing your sweet voice or the fear of getting caught?

"Can you, uh, sign this? Autograph?" She thrusted the coveted CD toward you as a fan on a mission, her eyes wide with anticipation. "It's for my collection. I promise not to sell it somewhere for a fortune."